


Through the Rain

by chujellies



Category: Bleach
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Grimm is a little shit for the most part, Grimmjow's POV, M/M, Thunderstorms, kind of, or whatever the heck these two have, start of a more than a friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28371747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chujellies/pseuds/chujellies
Summary: Who knew that Ichigo has a fear of thunderstorms? Certainly not his sparring partner.
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 9
Kudos: 187





	Through the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> hey! my first grimmichi fic ever,,  
> hope you guys enjoy! 
> 
> shout out to my bub KittieMitties (●♡∀♡)  
> they helped me with concept and editing!!

Grimmjow stepped through the garganta as it opens wide into Kurosaki's tiny bedroom. The first thing that hits him, besides Kurosaki's _ridiculous_ spiritual pressure, is the heavy scent of rain. His eyes snap to the window, watching as heavy droplets pelt hard against the pane. There’s a flash of lightning streaking across the darkened sky and the thunder that soon follows resonates in his bones. The different types of weather in the human world is a curious thing, almost soothing. Wasn't like it rained in Hueco Mundo. Wasn't like anything happened there.

The rain mesmerizes him for a moment longer before his nose finally registers the other scent that seems to permeate everything. Was that… _fear_ ? It smells like rotting fruit and decay and it’s rolling over him in waves. Grimmjow's eyes finally slide towards the lump on the bed, noting with a squint that he hasn't even received some kind of greeting. Kurosaki is usually so quick to yell or complain but there’s _nothing_. Just silence filled by the pattering of rain and strained breathing. This isn’t completely unusual. He's stumbled upon the kid having what he'd called nightmares before, but he doesn’t reek of that certain type of panic, and doesn't smell like shame. The breathing though, that’s similar. 

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Grimmjow silently makes his way to the bed. The mass under the blanket is a trembling mess that only seems to get worse when the thunder booms. He scrunches his nose at the sight, eyebrows pinched. What the hell is the kid so afraid of?

"Oi," he says, kicking the bed, huffing out a breath. He receives a choked off cry in return but nothing further. What the hell? He bristles, a snarl escaping. 

"Kurosaki."

"Go away," comes a muffled voice, raspy and low.

Fuck that. 

With a violent start, he grips the blanket that hides Kurosaki and yanks it fully off of him. He gains a murderous glare and a loud complaint in return but he ignores it, eyes taking in the sight of his rival. Kurosaki is shaking uncontrollably, lithe arms tightly wrapped around himself. His breaths are ragged, coming in too fast, too shallow, and all the while he’s making quick, jerky glances at the window. 

Thunder cracks the temporary silence with a bang and he gets a front row seat to the way Kurosaki _launches_ off the bed with fright, eyes too wide, a horrible, broken gasp tearing from his throat. That was a weird noise, like he’s choking on air. Grimmjow lets a smirk emerge on his face. This idiot is afraid of a thunderstorm? Is that it? 

Hah.

He’s about to rub it in, mouth opening with a rude remark on the tip of his tongue but, the way the redhead begins hyperventilating has him closing his mouth for a moment. Eyebrows furrowed, he watches as Kurosaki begins clutching his chest, eyes scrunching tight. The kid is beginning to reek like his usual nightmare panic but as it mixes with the fear… the smell is so off, so rotten. It’s burning his nose, a headache starting to form.

Grimmjow looks away, scoffing to himself. He hates seeing him like this, he decides. Where’s the usual fire in those eyes? The determination? Where was his rival? His Kurosaki? The panic and fear make his eyes look soulless. Disgusting. It pisses him the fuck off. It makes him want the shinigami dead. Grinding his teeth and running a hand through messy blue hair, he chances a glance back at him and scowls. This is getting ridiculous.

This time as the thunder goes off, he reacts instead of just watching. He pushes Kurosaki down roughly by the shoulders, legs sliding around the kid's hips, securely pinning him in place so he can't heave himself off the bed again. Kurosaki stiffens underneath him but doesn't move, doesn't push him off like he usually does. Doesn’t even _complain_. Does he always get like this when it rains? Talk about a pain in the ass. It gnaws at him though, how much of a statue the kid is just below him. How unlike his usual self he is. Grimmjow's gut twists while thinking about it, or maybe it’s because of how close he is. This is kind of too close. Much too close. 

But, the thunder keeps rumbling, seemingly endless, and like clockwork Kurosaki keeps trying to throw himself off the bed with a jolt each time. Only now, he’s there to hold the idiot down. The scent of panicked rot and fear keeps building and Grimmjow finds that he desperately wants to be rid of it. Scrunching his face and giving in to the part of himself that wants it all to stop, he starts up his own rumbling, deep in his chest. It startles him, eyes blinking back open, face going slack. It’s been so long since he's done it last that he forgot he even could. It’s reserved for his fraccion, or when he’s alone with quiet moments and a sense of peace. One which rarely happened and the other that had instantly died when they did. 

The quiet purr slowly becomes louder, just enough to be heard over the booms of thunder, enough so that Kurosaki can hear it. The kid finally shifts underneath him, like he’s settling down. His breathing becomes less erratic but still it’s just not enough. All of a sudden it’s like he registers the rumbling is coming from above him because there’s a gasp and hands on his chest, _warm_ hands. It’s _nice_. Grimmjow's breath hitches at the touch and the rumble immediately halts. He steals a glance down at the ginger's face, confusion all over his face. 

"Were you…" Kurosaki's voice trails off for a moment, his hands flexing against bare skin, as if he’s trying to dig into him with those blunt human nails. He’s staring at his chest like he's never seen it before. When he speaks again his eyebrows are knitted together, his voice accusing, hostile, "Were you just **_purring_ **?" 

Grimmjow snarls, pulling away immediately. Can’t do a damn thing for this kid without some kind of bullshit happening. Fuck this. Fuck Kurosaki. He doesn't need this shit. Stupid shinigami.

"Tch. Was just trying to help, asshole."

He’s just beginning to climb off of the kid when he hears him sputter and curse. There's a hand wrapping around his bicep, grip deathly tight. It attempts to pull him back gently.

"Let go, Kurosaki."

The constricting grasp only tightens, because when does Kurosaki Ichigo ever listen when someone tells him what to do. And when the thunder sounds again, the kid let's out an undignified squeak, the grip on his arm feeling like it could actually bruise despite the human meat suit. The roiling anger fades a little at the stupid little noise. What the fuck was that? He turns to look at Kurosaki, snarl still fully present, but finds himself tilting his head at the sight of the ginger's face turning almost as red as his hair. 

Kurosaki's mouth opens and closes a few times before finally settling on, "Look my sisters are asleep—"

"So fuckin what?" Grimmjow sneers, cutting off whatever the idiot’s gonna say, trying to tug his arm out of the strangely impressive vice grip.

Kurosaki shoots him a dirty look before continuing, " _So…_ I-I have no one to wait this out with. Stay."

"I'm not a fuckin pet, Kurosaki." Finally ripping his arm away.

"It was helping!" He scrambles to grab hold of Grimmjow again, this time by both hands on the jacket collar. Another crack of thunder and Kurosaki must be _truly_ desperate, because he's yanking Grimmjow down on top of him. He lets out a grunt as he fully lands on the kid. There's a deep growl forming in his throat, dangerous. Who the fuck does this asshole think he is? He can barely handle being touched as it is, but this? This is basically being manhandled. But what’s pissing him off the most, is the fact that he doesn’t totally hate it. He’d never fucking admit it though. He goes to pull himself off again but the sound of his rival's hiccuping breaths freeze him in place. 

"T-the purring… it was helping. _Please_ , Grimm," comes the quiet, pleading whisper from below. More thunder and stupid noises escape Kurosaki. He’s beginning to shake again, the fine tremor of his white-knuckled fingers threatening to rip into his jacket collar. All of it's enough to cut the growl off. Who knew the kid with god-like powers could be terrified of a little thunder? Fuckin ridiculous is what it is. Despite the anger, the weird feelings in his gut, and the swearing under his breath, the purring starts up again, barely audible. Just a little taste, barely enough to help. 

And yet, it seems to do the trick. Slowly, the grip in his jacket doesn't necessarily _loosen,_ but the desperation leaks out of it. Grimmjow’s muscles strain to keep himself as still as possible while Kurosaki shifts under him, making it so he lies completely flat on top of the shinigami, like some kind of weird protective blanket of body and limbs. And Kurosaki, clearly with no desire to live, slides his face into Grimmjow's neck and just _breathes_. He wants to snarl, to pull away, and he's certainly ready to, but the kid's arms finally leave his jacket to settle carefully on his biceps. He really wants to be pissed, wants to shout, gut him even, but the gentle warm breaths against his skin are pulling the fight out of him. The thunder booms and Kurosaki barely moves this time, face fully pressed into his neck, orange hair tickling his cheek. There's just a slight squeeze on his arms where the ginger is holding on. Grimmjow’s purr deepens, louder now, comforting. He still can’t relax. He doesn't know where to put his hands. Doesn't know what to do with his body but just lay there feeling the warmth of another. He's reminded of his fraccion, of the warmth of laying in a snoring pile of bodies. Protective, _safe_. Should he even stay here? It's not like it's _uncomfortable—_ but they're enemies. Enemies don't do this. 

But after what only seems like a few minutes, stupid Kurosaki is squirming _again_ and Grimmjow is _absolutely_ about to voice a complaint but, unexpectedly the warm hands resting on his biceps are gone. A weird feeling of loss digs into his chest and he clenches his jaw, body tensing further. A thought flickers through his head that maybe he did something wrong. He cringes. Where the fuck did that come from? He lets out an unhappy grumble as the kid shifts even more. All this weird shit was at least easier to deal with when the idiot was staying still. It was easier to zone out unlike now where he’s getting assaulted by feelings he doesn't understand. All at once there's the blanket from earlier sliding up his shoulders and up over both of their heads making a weird kind of blanket tent. It's warm, comfortable. _Confusing._

Kurosaki finally, _finally_ , settles again, face fully back in his neck but this time his arms are at his sides. Disappointment surges through him at full force when those warm hands don’t come back, and he scrunches his face. What the fuck? It stirs something inside of him but he can't decide if he likes the idea or hates it. Though, he figures he’ll store that thought for later when he’s alone. After deciding that the shinigami isn’t going to move again anytime soon, he figures he could at least try to get comfortable. Wasn’t like he was going anywhere, and he’s warm with the feeling of sleepiness coming on. 

Grimmjow stretches, loosening up tense muscles and settling fully on the kid while bracketing Kurosaki’s head with his arms on both sides. Another layer of protection. Overly protective, if he were to be asked about it later, again not something that anyone would ever get out of him. But, the stench of rot and decay is finally starting to peter out, leaving just Kurosaki. Just Kurosaki and his interesting mix of cinnamon and citrus. He smells good, _too good_ . And, the human is so stupid letting Grimmjow get this close because he just wants to _eat_ him. It would be so fuckin easy. So easy to bury his teeth into that junction between neck and shoulder. Heck, he’s about to; to prove to the kid that exposing his neck to the enemy is a _fatal_ mistake when, in his sleepy haze he misjudges his aim and buries his face in the ginger’s hair. Fuck, it’s _soft_ . Really soft. His purring hits ridiculous levels as he pushes his face into that hair further, nose hitting the shinigami’s scalp. He breathes, breathes like he never has before. And fuck, that cinnamon and citrus scent mixed with whatever the kid uses to wash is intoxicating. He feels woozy, like he’s had too much of that strange shinigami drink that Yoruichi hands him at Kisuke’s, and he wants to _taste_ . Taste his skin, his blood, _everything_. 

But, he resists. Damn shinigami should be grateful for his sense of control. Instead he plunges a hand into that stupidly soft hair and Kurosaki _lets_ him, actually lets him. Where the hell are this idiot’s survival instincts? Grimmjow starts kneading that hair like some fucking domestic house cat but he doesn’t care. He really _should_ , but the human under him makes a soft sound, like he’s pleased, and that sets off something in his gut. He likes the sound, wants to hear it again. It’s so much better than those stupid panicked noises. So, he pushes his other hand into his hair too. He’s not really sure why he’s doing this but those content, soft sighs are slipping out of Kurosaki in spades and it’s enough to spur him onward. 

He leans down into the crook of Kurosaki’s neck and this time decides the kid deserves some punishment for being far too fuckin’ trusting. He licks a long stripe from the base of his throat and all the way up behind his ear. The shinigami jolts, arms coming up to wrap around his back, holding him tight, fingers flexing. Huh. He licks the same area again, nipping on the way back down and Kurosaki lets out some kind of choking noise like he’s hit critical mass. He tries to push Grimmjow off of him but they’re trapped in the stupid blanket tent. Besides, he’s not done bothering the kid yet so he lets his body go fully limp, complete dead weight. The ginger grunts at the extra weight, but is relentless in his attempts to get Grimmjow off of him. He barks out a laugh— _finally_ his Kurosaki is back to normal.

Grimmjow purrs loudly, obviously pleased, right in Kurosaki's ear just before nibbling on the lobe. He sputters underneath him and this time when he pushes the ex-espada's chest with as much force as his noodly human body can muster, Grimmjow obliges. He raises himself up, hands sliding into place on each side of Kurosaki's head. The stupid blanket tent flattens his blue hair, letting it fall into his eyes. He stares down at Kurosaki, whose face is redder than he's ever seen it. The flush even goes up to his ears and down his neck, while he's staring up at him with too wide eyes. It's a stupid look. His gut twists again. It makes him wanna do something stupid in return.

He lowers his face towards Kurosaki's, whose breath hitches, while carefully maneuvering so that his broken mask doesn't nick vulnerable flesh. Again, Kurosaki should be _grateful_ . Not like he would do this for anybody else. Doesn't _want_ to do anything like _this_ with anyone else, he realizes. The thought pierces him like a sword through the stomach, and believe him, he's felt that before. Fuck. They knock foreheads and Grimmjow stares into those molten-brown eyes, flecked with gold. Those eyes, he used to hate those eyes.

"Ichigo–" his voice softer than it's ever been. It comes out sounding like a plea as it escapes his lips. And he bristles, because he feels all kinds of _weak,_ but Ichigo— Ichigo gawks at him and then his whole face softens. Softens as if Grimmjow just confessed something. Those warm eyes are shiny and bright. They make him feel warm on the inside.

He must be drunk off of Ichigo's scent, warmth, and smile because Grimmjow is closing the gap between them, pressing lips to lips. He knows what kissing is because some foreign memory of a hazy life comes back to him, and he's seen it happen between others in the stupid romance movies Kisuke likes to watch. He just wasn't expecting to _like_ it. He relaxes fully back onto Ichigo, hands making their way back into that soft hair. Warm arms wrap around him again and Ichigo is kissing him back. _Kissing him back_ . Fuck, those lips are soft. Everything about the human seems _soft_ but he knows deep down there's an edge to him like a knife. It’s exciting, as thrilling as the rush of their battles. 

He wants to _claim_ Ichigo, swallow him _whole_. 

He nips at his bottom lip while tugging at that fiery hair, demanding more and Ichigo parts his lips in invitation. Warm fingertips drag up his spine as he slides his tongue into that hot mouth. He tastes everything Ichigo is made of, exploring every nook and cranny he can reach. And soon, their tongues are swirling around each other in a weird kind of dance. He doesn’t hate it— in fact he could do this again and again if Ichigo will let him. He earns a groan from Ichigo and he growls, taking that noise all for himself and every noise after. The only thought in his head is _this human is mine_ and in the back of his mind is a rumble of approval. They’re panting heavily when they finally part, like after a good spar. Aqua blues stare into hazel brown, neither of them willing to speak for a long moment. But of course, Kurosaki ‘overthinking’ Ichigo has to say _something_.

“I didn’t think you liked me,” he says, voice thick. Hands slip to grip Grimmjow’s shoulders. Ichigo’s scent melts into a mixt of warm spices. 

And he has to scoff at that, _has to_ , “I’ve always liked you.” And it’s the truth. Even when he’d wanted to disembowel the kid in a rage, he had liked him.

It’s quiet again, after that. Like there’s too much out in the open now and neither of them know how to continue. It’s there in the silence that they both realize the thunder has stopped. The once heavy droplets against the window are now a gentle drizzle. Ichigo opens his mouth, closes it again. Opens it— Grimmjow shifts above him, sitting back on his hips and watches as the ginger’s face scrunches in disappointment. 

He pushes himself off of Ichigo, blanket falling away, and he can see a flash of anger in those hazel eyes before he practically growls out, “Fine, just _leave_ then.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Kurosaki,” There’s no heat behind his words.

He stands, knowing eyes are fixated on him, and begins unbuckling his belts and Pantera before placing them carefully by the bed. He takes off his boots and jacket next, letting them drop with a thump to the floor.

“What are you doing?” Ichigo asks while sitting up, face looking constipated. It always does when he’s trying to figure out what’s going on. 

“You’re fuckin’ dumb,” is all he feels is needed as a response. 

Ichigo looks like he’s about to attempt a getsuga tensho, lack of blade be damned, before Grimmjow is shoving him towards the wall, making enough room for himself on the bed. He’s taking the place between the wall and the door, another protective move but less so than earlier, less obvious. There’s a few choice words that leave the ginger’s mouth that he’s sure would have Yoruichi howling and Kisuke smiling behind his fan. He settles on the bed, arms folded behind his head, and sparing a glance towards Ichigo. He cracks a smile when he sees the ginger still simmering in anger.

“Calm the fuck down.”

“I thought you were leaving!”

He snorts, “Tch. Seems like you want me to stay, Kurosaki.” When Ichigo just flushes and looks away, hand rubbing the back of his neck like usual, Grimmjow barks out a laugh. He lowers his voice, just loud enough for him to hear, “You got what you want, Ichigo. I’m not going anywhere.”

Ichigo gets even redder, if that’s possible, but knowing him it is. It takes a bit but, the ginger finally relaxes back onto the bed, pulling the blanket over both of them all over again. His hand brushes against Grimmjow’s side and he keeps it there. Everything about this is equally comforting and confusing. Feelings he can’t determine are making his chest tighten. It feels like his stomach is doing flips. He shouldn’t be feeling these kinds of things, shouldn’t be _able_ to. 

Pantera rumbles in the back of his mind, her first time speaking in hours, helpfully supplying _‘You’re part shinigami, Jungtier’_. He rolls his eyes, letting out a quiet huff. 

They lay in silence, listening to the sounds of hushed breathing and soft rain. Grimmjow feels his eyes grow heavy, his side warm where Ichigo has shifted, turned onto his side and curled into him. There’s an arm resting on his chest, fingertips gently tracing the edges of the scar he kept from their first fight. He removes an arm from behind his head and presses it to the small of Ichigo’s back, keeping him close, secure. 

Pantera hums, _‘Ichigo would make a good mate, Jungtier. We must keep him—_ **_eat_ ** _him,’_ and Grimmjow is pretty sure he’s getting some kind of human sickness because his face is flushed, _hot_. He drags his free arm out from under his head, fumbling for Pantera over the side of the bed. His fingertips reach her and he flicks her as hard as he can. She clatters to the floor with a sharp clang. He can hear her raspy, chortling laugh reverberating through his skull.

Ichigo stirs, clearly on the edge of sleep, his voice hoarse, “Grimm?”

He feels sleepy eyes staring up at his face as he keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling, his face hotter than a moment ago. Stupid human sickness. He feels fingers poking at his side when he takes too long to answer. 

“Don’t worry about it, Kurosaki.”

**Author's Note:**

> jungtier - means 'cub' in german


End file.
